


Souvenir

by Cardinal_Sin (HU_shipper)



Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: -Ish, First Meetings, M/M, Multimedia, One Night Stands, Songfic, drunk matthew is horny matthew fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HU_shipper/pseuds/Cardinal_Sin
Summary: Due to a scheduling error, Powerwolf get a couple days off in Amsterdam. Matthew makes use of it and goes out drinking. Alone. Any other night that would be a terrible, horrible idea, but this time something good might just come from it.





	Souvenir

Matthew couldn't remember the last time they had more than an afternoon off on tour, and now, due to a scheduling error, they had four days off. He had wondered, however briefly, how that sort of thing could happen with their very carefully put-together tour itinerary, but finally he had come to the decision that he would just enjoy it. They were in Amsterdam, after all, and Matthew was eager to explore the city in depth.

His first two days were spent mostly with sightseeing and hanging out with his bandmates, along with some serious eating going on. Attila had called it gastro-tourism, and that had sounded enticing enough to go along with it. Matthew wondered how much he had gained during those meals.

Of course, for Matthew, the source of his greatest fascination was the nightlife of the city. He wanted to see what kinds of bars there were, what music people played or listened to in their free time. He had tried to convince the others to accompany him, but they had all refused. Even Falk couldn't be lured in with promises of alcohol, which was certainly out of character for him. Matthew had said _fuck it, I'll go alone,_ and did just so, fully aware of what kind of trouble he would get into. He was a messy drunk. In the end, he had put Charles on speed-dial, and taken a bunch of money for a cab.

So that's how he had gotten considerably drunker than he had intended. While the atmosphere in the first few bars wasn't exactly nice, people had insisted on buying a drink for "such a pretty redhead" as himself, and really, who was he to turn down free booze? He was starting to feel those drinks, and it was a buzz that would certainly end in a disaster.

He somehow ended up in a nice bar anyway. Well, it wasn't nice, per se. It was old and smoky and furnished with stain-covered wooden tables, but the atmosphere was laid-back and comfortable and there was a live band in the middle of their set of what appeared to be original music. It was just perfect for Matthew's tastes.

He ordered himself a drink and settled on a stool, in a good position to check out the band. They were playing music that landed somewhere between rock and metal, and they were _good_. Well, not _good,_ good, but they had potential. Something to work with. They were attractive too, although Matthew wasn't really feeling like _girls_ , if anything, so the guitarists were already out of the question. Their singer was both too young and too _expressive_ with his body for Matthew's tastes. He liked expressive people, but screaming _I'm the best singer in the world_ with your body just wasn't up his alley.

The drummer though. He was eye candy as fuck. He was wearing a tight tank top that really didn't leave anything to the imagination, he might as well have gone shirtless, and it showed built muscles and some seriously beautiful ink. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, making his skin glisten and his eyeliner – he had eyeliner on for fuck's sake – smudge a little. He was bald, with a little red beard, and he was just all-around the hottest fucking guy Matthew had ever seen. Oh, and he was devilishly good at drumming. He was the most talented out of the band, that was for sure.

Matthew, after his second beer, decided that openly staring at the hot drummer was a great idea. And so he did just that, enjoying the rare few seconds of eye contact he got out of it, and the drummer's confident little smirk every time it happened. And it happened a lot, as the set seemed to go on forever. Eventually though the band took their leave, and Matthew was left alone in the midst of scattered applause. He took another sip of his third beer, bitterly noting it was almost empty, and kept on waiting. He was certain Little Drummer Boy would come over to him.

He was, of course, right, and Little Drummer Boy appeared not ten minutes later. The bartender brought over a drink immediately. Must be a regular then. He downed half of the bottle in one go, and Matthew seized the opportunity to take a closer look at him. The eyeliner was gone – a shame, really – but he was _beautiful_ anyway, with green eyes and goddamn freckles of all things. It shouldn't have looked that hot, but damn, it did.

Drummer Boy lowered his drink and raised an eyebrow at Matthew. Matthew steeled himself and didn't blush. He would not. Drummer Boy may be hot, but he did have a reputation to uphold, and that was _famous metal guitarist_ and not _repressed twink being hit on for the first time in his life_. So. He stared back.

Drummer Guy extended his right hand and smiled a little. "Roel." Matthew stared even more. The fuck this had to do with rules?

"Oh, no, that's my name, silly. Roel van Helden. Pleased to meet you?" Huh. Did Matthew say that bit out loud? Well, alright then.

"Right. I'm Matthew," he managed, and shook the offered hand. Ugh, calloused hands. Fantastic. Also his accent? Beautiful. Matthew was going to die. Roel seemed to be a little disappointed that he didn't get a last name, but Matthew wasn't going to risk getting recognised at all. His surname was a bit peculiar after all.

"So," he said, to keep the conversation going, "how did you know I'm not Dutch?"

"I assumed," Roel shrugged. "Haven't seen you around before either."

"Well, you were right, I'm just travelling through" Matthew said simply, and finished off his beer. "I liked your music, by the way."

Roel grinned at him, obviously proud of the band, and himself, probably. He looked adorable like that, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that _very cute way_ that always made Matthew go weak in the knees.

Matthew continued. "Shouldn't you be talking to a horde of fangirls now, then? Instead of plain old me? That's pretty rude, no?"

Roel raised an eyebrow. He had a tendency to do that, so it seemed. "And isn't leaving you alone rude? Besides, what makes you think I'm interested in fangirls? Let me buy you a drink."

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm already way too drunk for my own good," Matthew laughed, "You could murder me right now and I wouldn't be able to object. Besides, what makes you think _I'd_ be interested in _you_?"

"I assumed," Roel repeated his earlier words. Huh. Was that hot? Probably not, but it really seemed so.

"You're good at assuming," Matthew caught himself saying. What does that even mean?? Does that even make sense? The answer, once again, was probably not. Roel laughed though. It was a nice sound. Matthew liked listening to it.

"You're so cute," Roel said simply. Like it was obvious. Matthew couldn't really do anything except blush like a teenager. No one, I repeat, no one, had ever told him that, just like that. Like a base truth. "Oh my god, you're actually blushing! Oh darling, could you be any cuter?"

Was he drunk too?????

"I'm...cute?" Matthew asked him, his drunken cockiness melting away at that one small compliment. It felt nice, but it was also really weird.

"You are, dear," Roel said, and lifted his chin with a thumb. "Oh my, the cutest little thing. Can I keep you as a souvenir?"

"I think," Matthew murmured, "I think I should be the one getting to keep a souvenir, as I'm the one leaving soon." He leaned closer, until their faces were just mere centimetres apart. "You could fuck me though?"

****

Matthew left the next morning. Although Roel was already awake, it wasn't awkward at all. They liked each other, even when sober and considerably hungover. Matthew's heart ached a little that they were leaving, and even more because he had promised himself he wouldn't tell Roel who he was. It wasn't likely that Roel would know who exactly Matthew Greywolf was, but he just couldn't risk it. Not even with such a great guy like Roel.

They did exchange numbers though, and Matthew had his phone stolen by his bandmates at least five times in the first two days of being back on the road. They were curious about what could have gotten little Matthew into such a good mood.

It didn't last long, and soon, their texts became scarce, the silences stretching for first days, then weeks. Matthew wasn't too heartbroken about it, it was a one-night stand and the residual chemistry afterwards finally wore off. That was natural. He didn't delete the contact though, not that he knew why. He just didn't. And the name completed with a little drum emoji stayed there, in his contacts, until he would need it.

And he did come to need it, almost a full year after that night in Amsterdam happened. They were fucked. Stefane had to leave, couldn't finish recording, couldn't tour with them. They needed someone to fill in, but that was the downside of being an established band: not knowing any freelance musicians.

Except...


End file.
